


Hi, My Name is -

by nirejseki



Series: Lil Bro AU [4]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Families of Choice, Family, First Meetings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 16:43:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9911801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nirejseki/pseuds/nirejseki
Summary: In which Barry Allen meets Mick Rory for the first time.(Lil Bro verse: Barry is Mick's younger brother)





	

**Author's Note:**

> prequel to my "Lil Bro", first in the series

Ms. Tracey’s office doesn’t get any less awful after the first few times Barry’s been there.

For one thing, it’s bright yellow, even though Barry’s told Joe that the color makes him queasy. It’s supposed to be soothing or something, but the color – and the awful flowers painted on all the walls – just make Barry nervous.

He doesn’t want to go. He _hates_ talking to Ms. Tracey.

But Joe said that talking with Ms. Tracey, who was the state-sanctioned psychologist he knew best, was the only way Barry was going to get to stay with Joe and Iris, so Barry goes.

“So, Barry,” she says. “Let’s talk about your mother’s death.”

Barry bites his lip. This isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation, and it’s just as awful every time. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“It’s important for you to process your trauma,” she says. “Especially if there’s a chance you might be called upon to testify at your father’s trial.”

 _Never_.

“Maybe it would help to go over it again?”

Barry never wants to think about it again.

His chest hurts, he’s sweating, he _doesn’t want to be here_.

But Joe says he has to, or they won’t be able to keep him. He _has_ to, or else he’ll go into the system, and Joe’s told him all about how bad the system is, over the years – abusive parents, drugs, assaults, bullying, everything.

Barry’s got to do his best.

“Okay,” he says.

And they do, again, and again, and again until –

“ _But he didn’t do it_!” Barry screams, because he can’t take it anymore. “He _didn’t_ , it was the man in yellow, it wasn’t Dad! He was trying to _save_ her!”

“Barry…” Ms. Tracey says, sounding disappointed. “I thought we’d gotten you over this ‘man in yellow’ theory.”

Barry bites his lip until it’s bleeding.

“Now, let’s go through the events one more time -”

“I’d like to go now, please,” Barry says. His ears are ringing and he feels like he can’t feel his fingers no matter how hard he clenches them. 

He can’t do this.

He tried, tried as best as he could. Surely that would be enough – surely Joe would understand.

Mom always said he couldn’t do better than the best he could do –

No.

He can’t think of her now or he’ll start crying.

Ms. Tracey looks disappointed, and when Joe comes to pick him up – a half-hour early, which means Joe looks stressed out, because he probably had to leave work early for this – she says, “I’m sorry, Joe. I’ve tried my best, but professionally, I’m going to have no choice but to put a note on his file indicating that he’s a high-risk child.”

“He’s a good boy, Trace,” Joe says, but he sounds tired.

Tired of Barry making trouble, no doubt.

“I know,” she says. “But he continues to insist on his delusions, describing things that we all know are impossible. A refusal to accept reality could signify future mental illness, or simply stubbornness that could lead to behavioral problems. I have no choice.”

“Thanks for trying.”

She smiles at him, and doesn’t look at Barry for a second. “I hope your application makes it through regardless, Joe. You’re a good man.”

Unlike Barry.

Joe smiles at her and kisses her cheek.

Barry just slinks out the door and waits by the car.

“Hey, Bear,” Joe says when he comes downstairs after a few minutes. 

“Sorry,” Barry mutters, eyes fixed firmly on the ground. “I know it’s going to make things harder.”

“It’s fine,” Joe says, even though it’s obviously not fine. “It’ll be fine.”

“Sorry,” Barry says again.

Joe sighs. “It’s fine,” he says again. “It’s just – Bear, you couldn’t have just gone along with it? For _one_ meeting?”

Barry hangs his head. 

“You _know_ how much easier the adoption process would be if you didn’t have a red flag on your record,” Joe continues, staring straight out in front of him as they drive home. 

“I know,” Barry whispers.

“It’s fine,” Joe says a third time, but Barry knows he doesn’t mean it. If he meant it, he wouldn’t be angry. “But you know we’re going to have a meeting with your social worker tomorrow at the CPS office. So just, you know, _try_ , okay?”

When Joe says ‘try’ he means ‘lie about what happened’ and ‘throw your dad under the bus’.

Barry’s not going to be able to do that.

But then Joe will get upset, and Iris will look disappointed the way she always does when Joe comes home angry, and then they’ll be talking about him like he’s not there, about his ‘problems’, how he’s ‘handling things’, and he just…doesn’t want that.

Maybe he can just, like, not talk about it? At all?

Maybe that’ll work. 

He can just avoid the confrontation entirely by just…not talking about it. Omitting everything. Maybe that’ll work. 

If he just doesn’t talk, he won’t have to say anything bad about his dad _and_ he won’t have to disappoint Joe.

It doesn’t work.

“We’re sorry,” the people at the CPS say, shooing Barry out of the door to talk to Joe, like Barry’s not going to stand right by the door and listen in anyway. “I’m afraid you’re just not qualified to take care of a high-risk child. Maybe if you take some additional classes and re-apply, we can do something.”

“His parents would have wanted me to take him,” Joe protests.

“Doesn’t really hold much water, given what happened,” the CPS person replies, not without sympathy.

“Good point,” Joe sighs.

Barry waits for him to protest again, to say something, to argue that Barry needs to stay with him for his own good – stay in the same school system, with Iris, with people he knows, _something_ – but instead Joe just says, “What’ll happen to him now?”

“We’ve got a set of foster parents picked out for him. They have a reputation for being tough but caring; they’ve taken in plenty of high-risk kids before. They’ve got four already, actually, so Barry won’t be alone. Could you bring Barry back in? We’ll want to introduce them.”

Barry gets led back in. The proposed foster parents…

He hates them on sight, with their fake pasted-on smiles and their stupid pastel clothing and everything. 

He wants to go home with Joe.

He wants to go home with _his parents_.

He wants his mom not to be dead. He wants his dad not to be in jail. He wants people to _believe him_.

“Barry’s really a good kid,” Joe tells them.

“I’m sure we’ll be able to handle him,” the foster mother says briskly. She talks to Joe, not to Barry. “We have four others already, as I’m sure you’ve been informed; Barry will fit right in.”

Joe’s nodding.

Joe’s _nodding_.

Barry’s heart is beating so fast it hurts. He feels like he can't breathe.

Joe’s just going to let them take him away to some _people_. 

He can’t. He can’t he can’t he can’t –

Barry slips out the door and grabs his backpack – the one Joe said he wouldn’t really need, the one that Joe said was just a formality to _pretend_ he was going to go somewhere else, but it wasn’t, because Joe was wrong. Barry’s not coming home with him. He’s going to go somewhere else, instead, somewhere he doesn’t know, somewhere that could be bad – no. He _can’t_. 

He heads straight out the door.

The grown-ups haven’t even noticed that he’s not there anymore.

He closes the door behind him quietly, like Dad showed him to do so they wouldn’t disturb Mom when she was napping on the kitchen table, head pillowed in her hands and half-graded tests scattered around her.

Barry knows what he’s doing isn’t really the smart thing. He knows he doesn’t have a plan, doesn’t have money – not more than the twenty dollars Joe gave him last week to buy something, and which Barry had kept, just in case – and he has nothing but two changes of clothing and a few books in his backpack.

He just knows he won’t go with those awful foster parents. He’s read all about the foster system in newspapers and books in the library, especially after having heard about it from Joe, and he’s not going to, he’s not, he’s _not_. 

He’ll find some way to make it on his own.

After Barry finds somewhere safe, maybe he’ll go visit his dad –

But his dad will just let the prison guards call Joe, and then he’ll be back where he started. 

So what to do?

Maybe he’ll –

“Hey, kid,” someone says.

Barry looks up.

There’s a guy sitting there, a big guy, late teens or early twenties.

Barry glances around.

“Yeah, you,” the guy says, nodding at Barry.

“What about me?” Barry asks.

“I’m looking for a little brother,” the guy says. “Pros: you get a place to live, food, that sort of shit. I’ll protect you. Cons: you gotta put up with me, and I’m kind of an asshole. What do you think?”

Barry blinks.

This sounds like a bad idea.

Like, _red flags_ bad idea.

He glances back at the CPS building.

Right now, the only _good_ idea, as his father or Joe would define it, would be to go back and submit to the same system that imprisoned his father and labelled Barry a high-risk kid because he wouldn’t lie about what he knew to be the truth.

Stupid good ideas.

Barry turns back to the guy. “Okay,” he says. “My name’s Barry Allen.”

“Nice to meet you,” the guy says. “My name’s Mick. Follow me.”

Barry gulps, clutches the straps of his backpack even tighter, and follows.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well, it’s been three weeks, and nothing bad has happened yet.

Honestly, Barry’s surprised.

He’s heard story after story, mostly from Joe, about how awful living on the streets is, how people starve and get abused and get hooked on drugs and other bad things. 

Technically, Barry guesses he isn’t actually living “on the street” – just, you know, street-adjacent. 

It’s actually not that bad an apartment. He’s pretty sure Mick doesn’t own it, though.

He’s pretty sure Mick doesn’t own…any of this, actually. It’s probably all stolen.

…Mick’s pretty cool, though.

Mick hasn’t asked for any details of Barry’s life, which is a terrible relief; Barry had been bracing himself for questions, for having to relive that terrible night again just like he’d had to for Ms. Tracey. But no – Mick acts as though Barry sprang full-formed the day Mick met him. Mick accepts him, no questions asked, nothing. Mick spends time with him, and gives him food, and protects him from other people when they start pestering him.

Mick acts as though Barry is his _brother_. For real, not just pretend.

“Can I have dinner?” Barry asks Mick.

“Sure,” Mick replies absently, fiddling with an engine. He likes to repair them, though he’s told Barry that he doesn’t work in auto repair for a living, and that he wouldn’t want to, anyway, when Barry suggests it’s a valid alternative to theft and robbery that Mick has explained is how he _does_ make his living. “What’d you like?”

“Uh,” Barry says. “Pizza?”

The last few weeks, Mick made them dinner at home, actually cooking it in their (borrowed) kitchen, making vegetables and stews and roasts and pasta and sandwiches and chicken and stuff like Mom used to do, but sometimes a growing boy just wants himself a pizza.

“Sure. What toppings?”

Barry actually likes a bunch of weirdo toppings, but he says, “Cheese.”

“Whatever you like,” Mick says. “Number’s in the fridge. Tell ‘em it’s for Rory and to charge it to the regular number; they have my credit card on file.”

“What would you like for toppings?”

“I’ll eat anything.”

Barry orders cheese the first few times, then – in a fit of daring – orders what he actually likes.

“This is good,” Mick says, mouth full of slices. “Wouldn’t have thought so. Nice combo. Get it again next time, will you?”

Barry swallows his own piece and smiles tentatively.

“I can order it again tomorrow,” he offers.

“ _Tomorrow_? No way,” Mick says. “Do you know what too much pizza will do to a kid? Stunt your growth. How long has it been since you’ve had real fruit anyway?”

“Uh,” Barry says.

“I’m getting apples tomorrow,” Mick declares. “Unless you don’t like apples. Oranges? Bananas? Kiwis?”

“Apples are fine!”

Mick likes vegetables, apparently, and even though Barry says he doesn’t, Mick only takes that as a challenge to try every single vegetable he knows until Barry finds one he does like. He never makes Barry keep eating things he doesn’t like, though; just takes it and finishes it off himself. 

(In the end, it turns out that Barry likes creamed spinach, steamed bok choy, and some leek-onion-zucchini pie thing Mick knows how to make. Who knew? Not Barry.)

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are there any rules I should know?” he asks Mick one day.

“Know where the exits are,” Mick says, and at first Barry thinks he’s joking, but no, Mick takes him on a tour of all the possible exits, the doors and the windows and even the weak parts of the wall that – if necessary – Barry could break through and get to the next building over.

“Why is this so important?”

“In case there’s a fire,” Mick says.

“Is there likely to be a fire?” Barry asks dubiously.

“Yes,” Mick says, and after a bit, he explains the rest of it.

It turns out Mick has a bit of a problem with fire, and it’s very important that Barry knows how to save himself because while Mick will protect him from everything else, he can’t promise he’ll protect him from fire.

Barry figures that’s fine.

Not like he has a leg to stand on, not really, what with his nightmares about lightning that Mick doesn’t make fun of him at _all_ for, even though Barry thought he would. Mick even changes the sheets for him without saying a thing. 

Mick’s up at odd hours of the night anyway, with nightmares of his own, and he teaches Barry how to get himself a glass of water or milk and go back to sleep and think of other things, how sometimes reading a book or watching a show will help calm a worried mind and make you dream of other things.

It helps that there’s no school for Barry to go to, not anymore, so he can make up the sleep with midday naps. 

“Any _other_ rules?” Barry asks, mostly fishing for the inevitable ones: don’t stay out after dark, don’t spend too much money, etc.

Money being the literal cardboard box filled up with small bills that Mick keeps near the door and grabs a handful of whenever they go out. Barry has been encouraged to take from it freely, so that he can do things he enjoys during the day – go to movies, or the library, or whatever.

Being here has kind of been like the best vacation ever, so far, and he feels bad for thinking it.

But it _is_.

Mick thinks about it, frowning. “Yeah,” he says.

“So?” Barry asks.

Mick squints at him. “I want you to be clear with your boundaries,” he says. “Set ‘em firm, enforce ‘em, and don’t let anyone ever give you shit for having ‘em.”

“Boundaries?” Barry asks, frowning in confusion. That’d never been a rule back at home.

“If I tell you to do something you really don’t like, tell me, and we’ll hash it out,” Mick says firmly. “Only exception is something safety related, like ‘duck’ or ‘run’, okay? Anything else, you just say what you think.”

Barry hesitates.

“Is there something you want to say?” Mick asks.

“Uh,” Barry says, because there _is_ , one thing he’s been worried about, but he hasn’t known how to bring it up. “You…steal stuff, right?”

“That’s how food makes it to the table, yeah,” Mick says, smiling a bit. “Just a couple of stick-ups and ATM scams, kid, don’t worry. Anything higher class’ll have to wait till I find Lenny again.”

The mysterious ‘Lenny’ that Mick was always looking for – he apparently was an old friend of Mick’s, one Mick was determined to find. Mick said that they’d get along great, Barry and Lenny would, but Barry’s not so sure.

“I, uh…” Barry says, and feels his throat close up.

Maybe he should just not comment and hope it never comes up?

“What, kid?” Mick asks. 

Barry gulps. He shouldn’t have brought it up, but he did, and now he’s stuck and he doesn’t want to talk –

“Tell me later,” Mick says, turning away. “Now c’mere, I’ll teach you how to fix an engine.”

“…okay,” Barry says. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Mick says.

“Aren’t there more rules?”

“I’ll add them as they come up,” Mick says dismissively.

As it turns out, Mick ends up adding rule number three – “the creepy guys in suits? They’re mobsters, don’t talk to them” – before Barry gets up the guts to finally blurt out what’s been bugging him.

He’s been here a whole month and Mick hasn’t touched him in weird places, hasn’t fed him drugs, hasn’t made him do anything, nothing, so he’s feeling pretty confident that it’ll be okay, but he’s still terrified.

But his dad raised him to stand up for what he believes in.

“I don’t want to steal anything,” he blurts out over lunch.

Mick blinks at him.

“…okay?” he says.

“You said – about boundaries –” Barry says helplessly.

“Oh, yeah,” Mick says. “So no stealing? That’s cool.”

“It is?”

“I don’t need the help,” Mick sniffs, but he’s grinning, and suddenly everything is okay again.

“But then why’d you take me in, if you didn’t want help with stealing?” Barry asks plaintively. He’s been wondering that since forever.

“I told you,” Mick says. “I wanted a little brother.”

“But - _why?_ ”

“Good motivation.”

The thing is, after a month or so? Barry’s learned that Mick is the most straightforward person he’s ever met.

So when he says he wants Barry as a brother, just a brother, nothing else, he means it.

Barry smiles, and he means it, too.

“Can we watch Star Wars again?”

“ _Again?_ ”

“We watched your ninja movie like three times!”

“Ugh, _fine_ …”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mick’s pretty laid back, but then the day comes when Barry lies about one too many things, just stupid stuff like he always does, and Mick comes back kind of wild-eyed.

“You’re _sure_ nobody dropped off an envelope earlier?” he asks.

“Uh,” Barry says. “Yes?”

“Wait," Mick says. "Are you _lying_?”

Barry opens his mouth, then closes. 

He just didn’t want to admit that he’d misplaced the envelope the first time, and then he’d already lied, so it was easier not to mention it again – and now Mick’s going to be angry at him –

“Oh, it’s fine,” Mick says. “I just didn’t realize. Next time I’ll check. But where is it now?”

“…top drawer in the kitchen?”

“Thanks!”

Mick’s going to be so angry when he gets back, Barry thinks, and needs to go lie down for a bit.

But Mick doesn’t get angry that day.

“What do you mean you didn’t realize?” Barry asks miserably that night. He’s been shaking all day, just waiting for the inevitable yelling-at, sick and miserable and awful, sick in his gut and shaky in his hands, but then Mick had come back and he’d made dinner, just as always, and he _hadn’t yelled_ and Barry’s – not sure what to do with that. So he figures he'll ask. Might as well get the worst over with.

“Some people lie,” Mick says, shrugging. “Lenny does, sometimes. It’s just a matter of knowing, y’know?”

“Knowing what?”

“Some people you just gotta check about the lying,” Mick says. “It’s a problem, like me and my fire.”

Oh, yeah, Mick’s pyromania thing.

Barry’s had _so many_ lessons on how to put out a fire, he can’t even count them.

Have three months really gone by?

“It’s fine,” Mick says.

He _means_ it.

He really, really means it.

The missing envelope never gets brought up again, never gets held against Barry. Instead, Mick just checks with him if he’s lying and teaches him to play pokers so he can learn his tells, to make it easier for Mick to spot any lies in the future. 

“Shouldn’t I be honest?” Barry asks tentatively. Mom and Dad and Joe always said being honest was important, though Joe had also said that lying was necessary sometimes and it’d been a bit confusing to know when exactly Barry ought to be lying and when he ought to be telling the truth.

“If you can,” Mick says, shrugging. “Especially with me, I’m family. But sometimes people can’t, and that’s okay too.”

Barry doesn’t quite get it, but he thinks that he likes it.

“Can we pop bubble wrap again tonight?” he asks. Mick keeps a whole roll in the closet for when he’s feeling anxious, because of his disorder, and Barry – who’s never had anxiety, as far as he knows – finds he really likes it, too.

“Sure,” Mick says. “But I get to pick the movie.”

“Not more ninjas!”

“What’s wrong with ninjas?!”

“You’re a _geek_!”

“Says the _nerd_.”

“I bet you love anime.”

“What’s anime?”

“…wow, we are going to a video store _right away_ ,” Barry says, amazed. “We’ll start with Cowboy Bebop.”

They spend the next week pretending to be Jet and Ed, their favorite characters, respectively.

Mick doesn’t mind Barry bouncing on the furniture at _all_.

“Lenny’ll be Spike, when he gets here,” Mick says with satisfaction. “And Lisa can be Faye – but she ain’t wearing that outfit.”

Barry snickers. “Lisa” is apparently three years older than him, but he can’t imagine any girl pulling off a _proper_ Faye Valentine.

“Should we get a dog?” Mick asks, eying a corgi in the pet rescue when they go to the grocery store.

“ _No_ ,” Barry giggles. “You know why? Because _I’m_ the one who’d have to feed it!”

“I feed _you_!” Mick protests. “That’s enough responsibility for me!”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s been six months.

Barry’s – 

Barry misses his dad, and he misses Joe, and he misses Iris, but damnit, he’s _happy_. 

Mick doesn’t hurt him; Mick _loves_ him, just like a brother ought to. Mick doesn’t even get angry when Barry goes off running around checking out supernatural phenomena or spends hours and hours in the library or calling people to ask about stuff in lightning or aliens or stuff like that; he doesn’t even roll his eyes the way Joe used to.

Everything’s _great_.

And then one day Mick comes back home.

And he doesn’t come back alone.

“Hey, Barry,” Mick says, smiling broader than Barry’s ever seen him, his eyes fixed on the slightly shorter man who stands at his side. “Come here, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Barry edges forward.

He doesn’t like this.

He doesn’t like how Mick is looking at that man; looking at him and not looking at Barry the way he’s always been focused on Barry these last few months.

“This is Lenny,” Mick says, and Barry understands.

This is Mick’s best friend.

Barry’s eyes narrow.

Len’s eyes narrow in return.

“Hi, Lenny,” Barry says, and means it as an insult.

“Hi, Barry,” Len says, and it comes out just the same. “And it’s _Len_ , thanks. Leonard Snart.”

War is officially declared.

(But Barry’s got to admit that Lisa would make an _amazing_ Faye Valentine.)

**Author's Note:**

> Barry's views on Joe, the psychologist, and the foster care system are not rational; he's a panicking 11 year old kid whose mom just died and whose dad has been sent to prison, and who no one will believe when he explains what happens. That being said, Joe and other adults involved aren't really handling their part of this very well either.


End file.
